


Gratuitous Use of Mistletoe

by starsinursa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Office, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Christmas, Dean is crushing hard, Deanial, First Kiss, Fluff, Intern Castiel, Intern Sam - Freeform, Lawyer Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsinursa/pseuds/starsinursa
Summary: “Dude, did you know someone hung mistletoe in the elevators?” is the first thing Dean says when he pushes open the door to Sam’s office, not bothering to knock.





	Gratuitous Use of Mistletoe

“Dude, did you know someone hung mistletoe in the elevators?” is the first thing Dean says when he pushes open the door to Sam’s office, not bothering to knock.

Sam lifts his head, frowning. At the adjacent desk, Castiel raises his eyes from his computer screen – because it’s not really Sam’s office after all, he’s still just a legal intern, which means sharing space with the other intern on the floor.

The stupidly hot other intern, on whom Dean may or may not have been stupidly nursing crush for the last two years, who is currently blinking stupidly blue eyes at Dean.  
“Mistletoe?” Sam says, scrunching up his face.

“Yup. Almost learned that the hard way.” Dean snags a trashcan from the corner and pulls it close to their desks, perching his ass precariously on the edge – because it’s not really an office after all, Sam and Castiel are still just legal interns, which means basically working out of a room the size of a closet.

Or an actual closet. There’s an old mop leaning against the wall and everything. Dean eyes the frayed mophead with disgust, taking a moment to wonder when someone might have changed the mophead last, and just how many gross bathroom floors it’s cleaned, and now it’s just propped up against the wall not two feet from the hems of Sam’s immaculate slacks -

“The hard way?” Castiel asks, scowling, drawing Dean out of his reverie.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. The dark-haired lady who works on this floor? Always wears super low dresses, shows lots of cleavage?” Dean raises both hands to his chest to demonstrate.

Sam’s face pales. “Amara? Partner of the firm, Amara? Our supervisor, Amara?” He groans and leans his head back. “Oh god, Dean, please tell me you didn’t –“

“Of course not,” Dean scoffs. “But thanks for the vote of confidence, Sammy.”

Sam sighs in relief and raises his hands, placating. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. So what did you do then?”

“Nothing. I took one step into the elevator, spotted the mistletoe behind her, and told her I’d decided to take the stairs instead.”

Okay, so he definitely hadn’t taken the stairs instead. He’d backed out, waited for the elevator to leave, and then promptly pressed the button for the next one, which had been blessedly empty. So sue him, okay? Sam’s office is on the ninth floor, and Dean was not about to hike his ass up nine flights of stairs. There’s nothing more humbling than showing up damp under the armpits and uncomfortably out of breath. Sam would never have let him live it down, the kid does shit like jog for fun.

Castiel definitely hadn’t played a role in his decision. Nope.

“Oh. Well, good.” Sam’s face clears, then immediately scrunches up again. “Wait, you didn’t say anything that would’ve offended her, did you?”

“Of course not! I was a perfect gentleman!”

Okay, so he’d fumbled out some half-assed excuse about working off all the pie from Thanksgiving before nearly tripping over his own boots trying to get out of that elevator, but he wasn’t going to admit that for a couple of reasons. One, because Sam might actually decide that’s a good idea and try to drag Dean along on his jogs again, and B, because Amara had actually looked a little miffed before the elevator doors closed in her face.

Dean’s not a prude by any definition of the word. Normally, he would’ve been totally game for a consensual make-out session in an elevator… but something about that woman is just weirdly intense and scary, and makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck prickle.

Castiel definitely hadn’t played a role in his decision. Nope.

“Who would’ve put mistletoe in the elevators?” Castiel asks, leaning back in his chair. His frown has cleared away, but now he’s doing that thoughtful head-tilt thing that always makes Dean’s neck ache sympathetically. His hair’s a mess, probably from running his hands through it a billion times, and his tie is honest-to-god backwards, bless his heart. 

Dean’s hands literally twitch with the urge to fix it. He grips his knees instead.

“I dunno… the janitor?” Sam muses. “There’s something weird about that guy.”

“Gabriel?” Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t think so. He’s been gone for two weeks visiting his wife’s family in India.”

Dean raises his eyebrows knowingly and leans forward, the rim of the trashcan digging more uncomfortably into his ass. “Ten bucks says it was the receptionist.”

“Becky? Why do you think it was her?”

Dean snorts. “Uh, because she’s in love with Sam, obviously. She’s probably hoping to catch him alone in one of the elevators.”

Sam splutters. “She - she is not!”

“Dude.” Dean gestures at the tiny glass window in the door. Even from where he’s sitting, he can see the receptionist at her desk, leaning forward and staring at the office door with an intense gaze akin to hunger.

Sam follows Dean’s gaze and shifts uncomfortably, looking disturbed. Castiel catches Dean’s eyes and shares an amused look with him, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Dean does not fixate on his mouth for a couple of seconds, no sirree.

He clears his throat and stands up, digging in the pocket of his jacket. “Okay. Well, anyways, here’s your wallet. Try to stop forgetting your shit at home, okay?”

He tosses the wallet on the desk. It slides a bit before Sam picks it up, frowning. “I could’ve sworn I set it with my briefcase last night –“

Oh, he did, but Dean had moved it so he’d have an excuse to stop by Sam’s office. Just...wanting to see more of his brother. Yep.

“All right, well, I’m heading out then.” He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, pausing. “Cas, you still got plans with your sister for Christmas? You know you’re always welcome with me and Sam. Besides, Ellen’s been asking about you ever since the 4th of July barbecue.”

Castiel’s face flits from pleased to regretful. “That’s very kind of her! Please tell her ‘hello’ from me, and that I still intend to persuade her to tell me the secret recipe for her potato salad. But yes, I do still have plans with Anna.”

“Okay. That’s cool.” He lingers for another moment, shifting his weight, before forcing a smile. “Well, if I don’t see you again before the holidays, have a good Christmas, all right? Sammy, I’ll see you at home.”

“Bye, Dean,” Sam says, giving a vague wave, but he’s already turning back to the paperwork on his desk. 

Dean winks at the receptionist - Becky – on his way out, wishing her a Merry Christmas. She looks a little confused, but returns the sentiment, only glancing one more time at the door to Sam’s office before turning back to her computer.

When the elevator opens, Dean makes sure it’s empty before stepping inside. Sure enough, there’s still a sprig of mistletoe, hanging cheekily from the ceiling. Except for his close call, he finds it pretty amusing. God knows there needs to be a little more excitement in law offices.

The doors are halfway closed when Castiel shoves an arm between them. “Dean! Wait, you forgot something.”

“I did?” He pats idly at his pockets – thinking how friggin’ ironic it would be if he’d lost his own wallet in Sam’s office – when Castiel steps inside, gripping the front of his jacket in both hands.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “This.” 

Castiel kisses him. It’s a little clumsy and a lot perfect, and he’s only frozen for the nanosecond it takes him to process what’s happening, and then he’s surging forward to kiss him back and winding his hands through Cas’ hair. That shit’s a lost cause, anyways. 

They break apart after a moment, but they’re still leaning close together, foreheads nearly touching, and Dean should probably say something romantic, but the only thing he can think is: “Did you really just pull that ‘you forgot something’ schtick?”

Castiel’s rumbling laugh breaks the tension. He steps back, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners in that way Dean lo – likes. Likes. Christ.

“I did. I’m sorry. Was it terribly cheesy?”

“So, so cheesy, Cas,” Dean confirms. “Just the worst.”

Castiel chuckles again, and it makes Dean laugh too – until he realizes that the elevator hasn’t gone anywhere, and Becky is gaping at them from behind her desk.

Dean gives her a thumbs-up, then points at the mistletoe above their heads. “Thanks, Becky! I owe you one!”

The doors finally close, blocking her blushing face from sight, and Castiel kisses him again.


End file.
